


Prodding the Beast

by ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers



Series: Golden-Smut [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers/pseuds/ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Origin of the Beauty and the Beast game eluded to in "Mr. and Mrs. Gold". Rumplestiltskin finds himself in a predicament that only Belle can cure...but what if she plays coy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prodding the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from...I swear I'm just an innocent little girl... But yeah. The tag is just a warning to those ooberly-sensitive; he only believes he rapes her. Belle was willing, I promise.

Disclaimer: Don’t own anything, or else I wouldn’t be doing this.

 

“Why are you so gentle?” Belle asked. Rumplestiltskin glanced at her with a frown.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, dearie, but never gentle.”

“You are…other people just aren’t with you like I am.”

                She rolled over so it was bare chest against bare chest, neither of them having bothered with donning clothes again after taking them off.

“I would hope not,” he said, wrapping an arm around her, “I kind of like this whole monogamy thing.”

                She set her chin on his collarbone, “I’m not made out of glass, you know. I won’t break if you desire something…more aggressive.”

                He sighed and brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear, “Dearie, I don’t want to have sex with you; I want to make _love_ to you, because you are my wife. Hurting you will accomplish nothing.”

                Her head bobbed over, cheek on his skin, “You never feel…beastly while we’re making love?”

“I do,” he admitted, “But that’s what separates man from animal; the ability to suppress.” He curled a lock of hair around his finger, “Why are you so interested about instincts and aggression?”

                Belle blushed, and buried her face in his chest, “No reason…”

                Rumplestiltskin let it go, contently snuggling with his love and filing the conversation under “things Belle has brought up and retracted without adequate cause”. Honestly, he didn’t relish the idea of treating Belle like some bitch dog who was mounted by an unruly mutt. Such things were demeaning to how deep their love went.

**III**

                Rumplestiltskin noticed the first hints of lust sometime after breakfast. It wasn’t very noteworthy at the time and hardly even apparent to him. He felt no need to act on it, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up if Belle decided to lay spread eagle on the dining hall’s table nude as the day she was born and he would oblige if she begged him to fuck her brains out.

                But it was an off-day if he didn’t have those sorts of feelings towards his wife. Deep down, as she had proven to him, he was still a man, and men had a tendency to be rather fond of physical displays of affection. Rumplestiltskin would be a liar if he said he didn’t love sex, but he could reign in his libido to an appropriate level.

                The hints grew throughout the day and by the time they were in bed he was firmly horny. He made his way across his designated side to hers, spooning into her. He kissed softly along her neck and jaw, an arm draping around her waist.

“Do you not see the book in my hands?” She murmured irritably, her eyes never leaving the page.

                Rumplestiltskin frowned, “I won’t disturb you,” he promised.

“We’ve tried this before, remember?” She turned the page, “If I’m having sex I prefer to participate.”

                He sighed dejectedly and Belle glanced at him, smiling apologetically and kissing his nose, “Not tonight, dear. I’m almost to the climax.”

“Poor choice of words,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, reluctantly retreating to his side of the bed. His nether regions complained painfully and he pictured Regina naked to quell his urges.

                Eventually, he fell asleep, and his subconscious was left unattended by his conscious. He dreamed of seemingly innocent things; Belle bent over to refresh his supply of straw, Belle taking a nice hot bath, Belle sucking and licking on a peppermint stick… Still, they all included Belle, and Rumplestiltskin awoke the next morning at full attention, linen undergarments stretched. He glanced over but Belle was gone. He sighed and sat up, releasing his erection and taking himself in hand.

                It was odd, but Rumplestiltskin felt guilty, as though he were cheating on Belle. A woman was a very prideful thing he knew, and she may feel hurt that he had to resort to himself to find release. But what were his alternatives? Walking down to the breakfast table with his member fully alert? Sitting around twiddling his thumbs, waiting for the blood to flow back out? No, if how hard he was was any indication, then he was past the point of playing it off.

                He didn’t bother with feather-light brushes, teasing rubs or slow thrusts; he was irritated with his body and wanted a quick resolution. He closed his eyes and images of Belle came easily to mind. His hand firmly gripping his cock, he pumped at it vigorously and his body reacted enthusiastically. Heat rushed through his length as he pictured his Belle underneath him, moaning loud enough to wake the dead, damp and tight…

                Yes, it wasn’t taking long; he was already almost there, his body tensing up as he grunted. But he didn’t feel sweet relief, or even see his seed spill out onto the sheets. He gripped himself harder, thrusted faster, but it only made the pain of nearing a climax that much more prevalent. He tried vainly other methods, even resorting to humping the pillow, but nothing brought him over the edge. He snarled in frustration, wondering why the hell he couldn’t just come already.

                The solution was bittersweet; Belle. He needed Belle. Not even he could satisfy his own urges.

                He pulled on a long shirt and made his way down to the lower levels of the castle, like a criminal heading towards the gallows. Even his shame didn’t minimize the throbbing of his groin, which looked like a staff tenting his shirt. He tried to summon some self-respect as he sensed her at the breakfast table, which was hard to do without any pants on.

“There you are,” Her voice sent a rush of new blood through his member, her smile giving him delicious pain, “I thought you had slipped out. Come on now, your breakfast is already cold.” She gestured towards the place next to her.

                Rumplestiltskin wasn’t in the mood for eggs and toast; the only thing he wanted to eat right now was Belle’s pussy. He stifled a moan at the thought of him underneath her skirts, tasting and prodding her as she called out his name…

“Rumplestiltskin.” His member twitched in reply.

                He cleared his throat, “Dearie, there’s a bit of a conundrum that needs to be settled first,” he admitted.

“What do you…” Belle trailed off as her eyes wandered down to his hips. If he were capable, he’d blush.

“I…can’t do it alone,” he confessed, shifting his weight, “I’m sorry…”

                Belle could blush, however, and did, even though it was nothing she hadn’t seen before. One more adorable action from her and he was pretty sure his member would deattach itself and run to her. She squirmed uncomfortably.

“Rum, I’m…not really in the mood,” she said, glancing back at her plate.

                Rumplestiltskin was flabbergasted, “What?”

“I’m sorry; I’m just not interested right now. You’re just going to have to keep trying on your own,” she mumbled, unable to meet his pitiful eyes.

                He wanted to object. He wanted to point out how quick and effortlessly on her part it could be, mere seconds if his calculations were correct. He wanted to remind her that he would never do this sort of thing to her even if he wasn’t horny in the least, and that she was his wife goddammit and he didn’t ask that much of her-

                He stopped himself from going too far. He would not be _that_ kind of husband, who demanded sex from an unwilling wife. He bowed his head.

“Alright… I’ll see you later, then…” He departed, his body wracked with agony and desperation.

                Nothing helped; if anything things made it worse. A stray thought of his beloved was enough to send lightening through his erection, an erection that did not ebb. A slight touch was worse. No potion soothed his pain (yes, he was so desperate he had turned to magic). It was all he could do to keep from sobbing or throwing himself at Belle’s feet pleading for a handout. He would not be that kind of husband…her no meant no. Maybe tonight, in their bed…

                His nails dug into his work bench as he groaned, his own thoughts driving him mad. All day. All day he had endured this stone attached to his waist. He was going to die from being on the edge for so long. He spun away from his work and teleported down towards the library. He would beg…that was all there was to it. No pride was worth this torture.

                He paused at the library doors as he heard Belle’s soft voice gasping and moaning. Fresh blood galloped through his veins as he listened, slowly easing the door open. Belle was sitting in one of her many reading chairs…but this time there was no book in her hand. Her hand was quite preoccupied with the place between her thighs, skirts hiked up to her hips, head tilted back as she let bedroom noises slip out. Hurt flared up in Rumplestiltskin.

                Belle would rather seek pleasure with her own hand than him.

                Hurt turned to anger. What could she give herself that he couldn’t? Did he not bring her to climax each time? Or was it simply because he wasn’t pretty to look at? She knew that he was in agony; why wouldn’t she help him?

                Anger turned to determination, and action.

                He stepped forward very deliberately and Belle’s eyes flew open, staring in horror at him.

“Rumple…” She whimpered.

                He raised his hand and snapped very deliberately.

                In a flash her clothes had disappeared and she was bared completely to him. She made no move to cover herself and he drank in her body for a moment, salivating at the sight. There was an unusual vacancy in his head, filled with only the thought that he must have her at this very moment or he will die.

                The chair wouldn’t do. He closed the rest of the distance in between them. He grabbed her by her forearm and threw her to the ground face-up. Belle watched him as she lay on the ground, her chest heaving and shivers running all over her skin. He met her eyes for a brief moment and she got a good look at how soulless and animalistic they had become in the course of a few minutes.

                He then pounced, and began to consume her.

                Body looming over hers, his hands formed like vices around her forearms, determined to keep her down. He started at her neck, licking, sucking, and even biting her flesh, turning it shades of pink and red. He moved down her chest, worshipping her breasts as she started screaming. The screams only excited him more as he trailed down her stomach to her thighs and her sopping curls.

                He devoured her sex, drinking in her juices like ambrosia. He buried his face in her folds, his tongue driving into her relentlessly, feeling her tightness around him. He only lasted five minutes before he surfaced, tearing off his shirt and lining up his erection with her opening.

                He cried out as he finally felt himself enveloped in her warmth, feeling insanely whole and perfect. He couldn’t bear to stay long outside of her and so he started a steady pace from the get-go. On the edge all day, it did not take him long to shoot his load inside of her. It wasn’t enough, though, just to have relief. He wanted ecstasy.

                He took her legs and set them on his hips, making sure they would stay. He humped into her like a dog, grunting and groaning as he tried to go harder, deeper. He stared down at Belle, his lovely beauty, the love of his life, listening to her cries, feeling her around him. She was perfect, this was perfect, he loved her so, so-

                His grunts turned into growls, louder and louder as he felt himself approaching a second climax. He roared as he came inside of her a second time, stars dancing before his eyes as he sank down from his high into a pleasant contentment.

                Except for the fact there were bite marks and bruises all over Belle. Except for the fact he had thrown her to the ground and taken her like, like a…

                Well, like a beast.

                He scrambled back, staring in horror at her. Belle’s smile faded as she propped herself on her elbows.

“What’s wrong, love?” She asked, as if she hadn’t just been raped.

                Yes, Rumplestiltskin thought as he felt sick to his stomach. He had just raped his wife.

“…I’m so sorry, Belle,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears, “Oh gods, I’m so _sorry_.”

“For what? That was wonderful.” She got up onto her knees and started crawling over to him, looking absolutely delighted.

“Belle I just, I just…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, trembling.

                Belle’s face fell, “You think you… Oh,” she sat back on her heels, biting her lip, “…I have a confession to make…”

                Rumplestiltskin roused himself out of his self-loathing long enough to glance at her.

“I knew a suggestion wouldn’t be enough… I wanted to prove that I wasn’t fragile… So I might’ve found an aphrodisiac potion…spiked it with some other things to heighten your aggression and instincts…and put it in your porridge…and then waited until you were beside yourself with lust…”

                He had no way to process this. Belle had drugged him for rougher sex… Because apparently that discussion was her way of asking.

                And yet somehow it made utter sense.

                She crawled closer to him, nudging his knee with her nose, “Please don’t be mad at me… I came so hard…”

“You came?” He asked.

                Belle gave a shy smile, “Twice… Apparently this needs tweaking.”

“It needs you to actually _say_ what you want instead of drugging me,” he muttered moodily.

                She giggled, “Alright…but you have to promise not to treat me like porcelain anymore.”

                Rumplestiltskin’s lips twitched in a desire to smirk, thinking about how it _had_ been pretty good…and he liked the way she wore his teeth marks, “Deal.”


End file.
